


eat up, young pup

by pan_ismyhomeboy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Food Porn, Kink Meme, M/M, post-Subjected to his Will, sensory issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pan_ismyhomeboy/pseuds/pan_ismyhomeboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas decides to help Cole overcome his aversion to food, a process which ends up being more pleasurable for the both of them than either had anticipated. Gratuitous food sex ahoy! Prompted on the kink meme, will indirectly reference spoilers at some point, maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired somewhat by SeriousMoonlight's amazing fic "When You Sleep," I've tried to write Cole as an explicitly autistic character. I myself am not autistic but have some sensory processing and anxiety issues I've written into Cole to (hopefully) make his characterization believable. Neurodivergent characters having satisfying sex lives ftw!

Cole likes Solas. Cole has always liked Solas, but now the liking is different because _he_ is different. Shadows flicker across faces with expressions that hold more meaning now, warmth soaking up under fingertips as his touch ghosts across a bare hand. An enigmatic smile just for him, beautiful and bright and burning his cheeks, and-

"Infatuation, Cole," Solas says with a gentle laugh that sends shivers down the boy's spine. "Your body is that of a healthy young adult, and I am a close friend. It doesn't surprise me, really."

It certainly surprises Cole, both the feelings and the fact he and Solas are still friends. He'd been worried after Redcliffe, after Lavellan had sent Varric to calm him down. Solas had wanted one thing and Varric another, and Cole had not wanted to disappoint either of them. He wants to help, wants to sit by Solas' feet as he paints their story onto the wall, wants to promise Solas that he's the same but only different now. He is worried in ways he wasn't able to be before, touching some deep part of himself that aches with remembering. Had Cole, the real Cole, felt this way about someone? The desperate shining in his chest, the intrusive thoughts (those that belong to him, and those that belong to Solas), the way he wants to giggle and dance when he gets the attention he craves?

("Being human," Cole says one night around the fire, "is harder than it looks." He doesn't know why Varric and Lavellan laugh so hard at his solemn proclamation; he thought he'd been doing the dwarf and elf a favor to inform them of this, in case they'd ever been curious themselves about humanity.)

The sudden distracting qualities of Solas aren't the only changes that have Cole squirming and confused. Food is another. Or rather, the consumption thereof. He's never had any problem with food on principle as it makes people happy, full bellies and hearthfires and a little hope in the cold and dark. And the smells, so vibrant and evocative for the people of Skyhold, his adopted flock he so carefully looks after. Cassia and mace mean apple pastries, which mean fall and falling in love. Fresh loaves of bread out of the oven before the sun properly rises smell like a home he doesn't quite remember. But no matter how sweet the spices or how fresh the bread, the food is too much when he puts even the smallest amount on his tongue.

Cole learns that it is rude to spit food out in front of others, especially if they had been the ones offering it to you. He tries to explain but talks even himself in circles, agitated and overwhelmed by the sudden awakening of his taste buds. He can taste the sunshine that grew the apples and the tired joy of the baker kneading dough.

"What does joy taste like?" Solas asks Cole after the boy's explanation finally peters off.

"Your smile," Cole blurts out without thinking, then ducks his head so the wide brim of his hat very nearly reaches his shirt.

Solas' voice is quiet and near, a spark of warmth (like loaves from the ovens, and fire, and _home_ ) lighting up his words. His mind is willingly open for Cole, and not for the first time Cole wonders if Solas is able to peek back into his mind the way Cole can into his.

"You have never tasted my smile, Cole," Solas murmurs.

But Cole has, again and again across the room, eyes meeting, or weaving around each other on the battlefield, fierce joy singing in both their hearts, exultant, the rise and fall of the elf's chest as he breathes heavily after the battle, the curve of his lips in quiet satisfaction.

"Oh," Cole says after a moment. "You mean a kiss."

His heart is singing again as slender fingers tilt back his hat, then tilt up his jaw, then pull him inescapably forward. Solas tastes like the night sky and swirling frescos and the elfroot he so often chews to help him relax in his bed.

Solas pulls back and looks at Cole expectantly, his voice betraying nothing, his mind everything, "And?"

"Joy," Cole says, face lighting up. "Wild and timeless and defiant  _joy_."

"It's a start," Solas tells him, leaning in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

Cole spends more and more time with Solas, sometimes kissing, sometimes merely passing the day with him in comfortable silence. Solas is not surprised by his comings or goings, the way he slips in and out of rooms silent as a cat, if not quite as unseen as before. Cole likes that Solas is not surprised. Of all the people in Skyhold, Solas is the one who seems to understand him best. Others, like Varric and Lavellan, might be able to better explain what it is to be real now (or a different kind of real, at least), but Solas understands what these changes mean for Cole coming from the spirit side of things.

"You have a body that needs looking after, now," Solas says, looking up at Cole thoughtfully.

"Yes," says Cole, knowing where Solas wants to go with this and wishing he wouldn't. He's sitting on edge of the scaffold in the mural room, swinging his legs gently back and forth. From this distance it's easier to look at Solas and not be distracted by things like the color of his eyes or the way the corners of his lips curl up as they talk. The entire world is distracting for Cole, and Solas just makes things worse, and better, often at the same time. "But I don't _need_ to eat."

"I hadn't said anything about eating."

"You were thinking it. Worried for me, still skinny and pale, stringy hair, stomach growling each time I see him. Spits out food like it's poison." Cole crosses his arms over his stomach, almost like he's guarding it from Solas' attention. "You're skinny and pale, too. You don't even _have_ hair."

Solas chuckles, soft and low in a way that makes Cole's chest tighten in a not unpleasant way. "Yes, but I also eat meals, sleep, and generally take care of my body. Do you?"

"I spend time here," Cole responds stubbornly, and Solas gives that gentle laugh again.

"Being happy is not the same thing as being _fed_ , Cole."

Cole sees the shape of the thought as Solas walks over to his desk and rummages through his satchel. "I don't eat," the boy tries to explain again. "Everything is ash on my tongue. Food sticks in your teeth and starts to rot." And then, almost sullenly: "You can't make me."

"No, I can't," Solas agrees, holding a jar of honey up for Cole to see. "But I could offer you a trade."

Cole's legs still for a moment as he peeks out from under his hat and catches the wisp of suggestion in Solas' mind. "Kisses for honey. Honey because it's sweet and maybe I'll like the taste. Kisses because you already know I like them."

"Also because you complained of certain sensations when you ate before. Honey is soft and doesn't vary in texture. You won't need to chew, and you can try as little or as much as you want."

Cole considers this as his legs start swinging again, fingers tapping nervously on his arms through his patchwork sleeves. "What if I kiss you and promise to think about it?"

Solas smiles. "What if you had some honey first and then I kissed it off your lips?"

"You want me to say yes," Cole says, voice sounding a little strange in his ears. "And not because you want me to eat."

"Not _just_ because I want you to eat, no, but I do think it would be a good idea to work on your aversion to food." Solas unscrews the lid of the glass jar and dips in a fingertip, almost daintily. "I do have an ulterior motive here, but I hope it's one you also find appealing."

Time does something funny as Cole watches Solas bring the honey-coated finger to his mouth and slide it between his lips, eyes closing for a moment as he savors the taste. Cole shivers, fingers digging into his sleeves as he feels the elf's pleasure at the honey on his tongue, at being watched, at the prospect of Solas and Cole doing this to each other. Mouths and fingers and tongues, stickiness, pale skin against pale skin. Solas' desire is warm and beckoning, and yes, nervous in its own way. Solas always seems so confident and sure of himself, who he is, _what_ he is, even if he hides much of himself from the world. It is good for Cole to feel a familiar tendril of uncertainty thrill through the other man. What if Cole says no? What if he says yes?

Cole makes his decision and jumps down from the scaffold with an inhuman grace that often seems out of place in the body of a teenage boy. Shy fingers run around the brim of his hat before he pushes it up and then off to rest on the desk in the middle of the room. He feels vulnerable without his hat and the world is so bright with nothing shading his eyes, but Solas likes to touch his hair when they kiss and Cole has discovered he likes having his head petted. He reaches for the jar, but instead of handing it over Solas dips his finger in again and offers it to Cole. The honey oozes slowly, a single amber drop forming along the bottom of his knuckle.

Cole ducks his head and his tongue curls along Solas' finger. The honey _is_ sweet, almost too sweet, a wave of sugars rushing across his tongue and drowning out the borrowed thoughts of Skyhold usually crowding his mind. Solas is saying things and feeling other things but Cole doesn't hear him. He's too distracted by the way the honey warms quickly in his mouth, how it moves faster when it's not so cold, and how it feels slimy but not terribly awful as he swallows.

He's just pulled his mouth away from Solas' finger when the older man tugs him in for a kiss, soft but still heated enough to make Cole's head spin. Cole's hands, shaking, touch Solas' arms, then his shoulders, then cross behind his neck and pull him in deeper. The taste of honey still lingers on Solas' tongue as he sweeps it against Cole's lips and slowly laps into his mouth.

"It's distracting," he mumbles against Solas' lips, and he can feel the rumble of the other man's amusement.

"Is that a complaint?" Solas asks, pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. His eyes are watching him with a mix of delight and pride.

"It's... I can't _think_ like that," Cole says, eyes tracking across Solas' face but never quite meeting his gaze. He can't try food, have just been kissed, carry on a conversation, _and_ look someone in the eyes all at the same time. "It's so loud in my head, my mouth, it's sweet but it's sweet all _over_ trickling down my throat, and I want-" He leans forward again and huffs in frustration when Solas puts a hand out to stop him.

"It has to be a fair trade. Some honey for some kisses, not some honey for _all_ the kisses at once."

Cole, who at this point just wants to do something about the growing heat in his body and to keep on kissing, ponders this for a few moments and says, "You didn't _say_ it had to be fair."

Solas shakes his head with a smile as he dips into the jar again. This time he gets a generous amount of honey on his finger and it's already dripping as he lifts it toward Cole's mouth. Cole's lips part and his eyes close without thinking about it, and the moan that catches in his throat certainly didn't ask his permission first to be there.

"So you do like the taste," Solas says with a pleased hum. Cole can feel the heat radiating off the other man as well, the sinuous want curling through his voice and through his veins. Cole recognizes it because he feels and hears it in himself, too, pulse too-loud too-fast in his ears, hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. The sweetness is so intense it makes his mouth ache and this, too, makes him moan.

He mumbles something unintelligible and Solas pulls his fingers from his mouth. "What was that?" the elf asks, sounding a bit short of breath.

Cole's eyes open and he focuses first on the string of saliva between his lips and Solas' fingers, then, briefly, on Solas' eyes. They're watching him intently, pupils wide, and Cole catches a ghostly image of himself mirrored back to him. His eyes are just as wide and wanting.

"We match," Cole repeats, a hand touching his own face. "Hot and flushed and alone together, clothes are tight, his lips, oh Creators, Maker, _whoever_ , his lips are so soft and I need them on me or I might, I _might_ -"

Cole's hand goes out to hold onto the edge of the desk and he closes his eyes again because he can't bear to see himself reflected in Solas' intense gaze any longer. But still he knows when Solas presses closer to him, pushing him against the edge of the desk, mouth coming to rest by his ear.

"Whose mind were you reading, Cole?"

"Ours," Cole whispers in return, and Solas swallows him up in another kiss.


	2. Plums

They move on quickly, from the honey.

Solas decides to encourage Cole's growing sweet tooth by focusing on fruit as their next challenge. Apples had been out of the question with Cole loudly protesting against any food he could hear himself chew, and even with Skyhold's unusually mild climate it was simply the wrong season for ripe berries, so Solas settles on his third choice before beckoning Cole into his sleeping quarters.

Cole's first orgasm - the first he can remember, at any rate - comes as Solas slowly strokes his cock with an oiled palm while feeding him slices of peeled plum with his lips. For once, Cole's skin isn't quite so pale or so cold. Instead it's warm and uncomfortably so, nearly scorching under the older man's touch. Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and the front of his neck, and down the curve of his spine, and between his thighs pressed so very tightly together. The plum in his mouth is juicy and cool, tasting of Solas' lips. Or maybe Solas' lips taste of plums. Maybe, maybe -

He's babbling as he spills into Solas' hand. The soft bit of fruit in his mouth is gone, swallowed while he wasn't paying attention, and Solas is kissing him again. The elf's thoughts are loud in the wake of Cole's orgasm, almost as though the climax had completely stilled all other distractions of the world. Cole breathes in, nostrils flaring as he catches his breath around the kiss. He has to do that now sometimes after battle, or excitement, or apparently after sex. The burn in his lungs is wonderful in a way he was not expecting and while it is his own scent heavy in the air it is Solas who fills his quieted mind so completely.

One hand pushing back messy blond tangles -- _they make him look so naive and young, but compassion is ancient and empathy is endless and I can see the history of the world written in his eyes_ \-- while the other, still slick with oil and now also slick with Cole's semen, continues its lazy strokes -- _he sounded so surprised when he came, like he wasn't expecting it, like he was discovering something new, so sweet and heartbreaking and heady to know I was the one to show it to him_ \-- as Solas' lips slide another ripe piece of fruitflesh against Cole's tongue -- _so warm pliant yielding and oh the **things** I will show this boy_. Solas' thoughts drum against the inside of Cole's skull as the boy comes back into himself.

Solas pulls back from the kiss after a long while. Cole chews slowly, eyes closed, savoring like Solas had been trying to teach him to do. He does not like the sensation of fibers and pulp in his mouth, but he is so inexplicably _calm_ that instead of spitting out the offending food he simply grits his teeth and swallows it. At least the sour-sweet taste is mild, as Solas knew it would be.

"You think I'm pliant?" Cole asks, and his voice skates across an octave.

"I think you're very stubborn when you put your mind to it. But when given the proper motivation... yes, pliant is a good word for it. But only because you want to be." Solas' voice is husky but steady, calm though his mind races and wants. His thumb almost casually strokes across the head of Cole's very sensitive cock, making the boy moan. "Two bites of food, Cole. That's very well done."

"Pleased with me. Good. I'm, I'm pleased with you too." Cole shudders and leans forward, head falling on Solas' shoulder. He watches the elf's fingers work across his softening shaft. "You can stop, though. Hurts more than it feels good, now."

Solas pulls his hand away and lets it rest on Cole's knee. "That's not terribly uncommon. Even with the lubrication, this is a touch your body isn't used to, yet. Unless I'm mistaken, you haven't tried masturbating on your own, have you?"

Cole gives a small shake of his head. After a moment his hand comes to rest over the other man's, feeling the rapidly cooling slick on his fingers. The world starts to filter back to him slowly, but his mind is still quiet and wondrously receptive to Solas. "All I can feel is you," he says softly, and somehow that manages to answer all of Solas' questions.

Solas’ lips brush against the boy's hair. "You cannot rely on me to take care of all your body’s needs forever, Cole. Eventually you must learn to take care of yourself.”

“But you like doing this for me. Teaching me, showing the way. Bringing me back to the self I never knew. You think I’m - _cute_ when I try a food for the first time. When you touch me in new ways. New. Virginal. You… like it.”

Solas shifts and pulls Cole down onto the bed. Soon they’re a tangle of limbs, Cole wrung out, Solas still tense with need, and this close there’s no denying the state of Solas’ arousal. “Does that bother you?”

Cole’s fingers slide over Solas’ hand, giving a soft squeeze. “You aren’t being selfish. You are being everything _but_ selfish, you, you care that your hand is messy with my come and that I might not like the texture because it’s new and strange, but I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. I’m too calm to do much minding.” It feels good to say that. Sometimes he forgets that just because his own thoughts are loud doesn’t mean other people can hear them. He looks up at Solas and presses a quick kiss to his chin. “I don’t see how you can care about something like that and still be selfish.”

Solas blinks at him before a wry smile crosses his lips. “Sometimes I forget I cannot hide everything from you, Cole.”

Cole hums and darts forward to plant another kiss against Solas’ jaw. He murmurs, “You’re hard. You should let me help.”

He feels Solas’ assent in his mind, the softening of barriers moved back to make room for other things. Cole lets out a small sound of delight and kisses higher, meeting the other man’s lips. Hands are at his hips now, a litany of desires and possibilities and _what ifs_ playing across his eyes. Cole pushes Solas back and acts on instinct. He clambers on top, all gangly limbs and the loose grace only a good wank can bring. When he straddles Solas and sits back on his knees, he can feel the elf’s erection pressed against the cleft of his thighs.

“You feel good,” he tells Solas, cheeks burning.

Solas is looking up at him with something like wonder and something like amusement and an even bigger something like barely restrained lust. He’s flushing, too, skin warm and pink under Cole’s hands as the boy explores the body below him. “I’m glad you think so,” he says, reaching up to touch Cole’s lips.

Cole licks at the fingers experimentally, getting a taste of the mild oil and something else, bitter and strong. He makes a face and says, “Blech!” with as much dignity as he can muster.

Solas laughs and says, “Not everyone likes the taste.” He pushes up against Cole’s body, laugh quickly turning into a moan. He moans again, louder, when Cole runs his finger along the back of Solas’ sticky hand and gently presses it into the elf’s mouth.

“You don’t like the taste so much either, but you like that it’s me,” Cole says softly, grinding his hips down and back. Even though his own drive is sated, his cock twitches in sympathy as he listens to the need in his partner’s voice. He hums again as Solas’ tongue caresses his fingers. “What do you taste like, Solas?”

“Salty,” Solas groans as he pushes up again, and again. “Bitter. You wouldn’t like it.”

“I like you.”

Words falter for some time as Solas pulls Cole down for a kiss and pushes up against the friction of his thighs held together. Cole likes the glimpses of possibility in Solas’ mind, the things they could accomplish with more oil, and patience, and time. The flavors of the oil and slick and plum juice mingle on their tongues in the most confusing way for Cole, who is still getting used to individual tastes. He pulls away, breathless, and stops canting his hips for a moment to reach across the bed to the plate of sliced fruit on the nightstand.

“Cole?” Solas asks, breathless.

“We’re still trading,” Cole says firmly. “Food for kisses. Or food for fucks, now.”

It’s not the first time he’s said the work _fuck_ (that memorable moment belonging to Cole stubbing his toe and putting Varric’s ‘how to be a real person’ lessons to work) but it’s the first time he’s said it in this context with Solas and he find that he relishes what that simple word does to the man beneath him.

“You like it,” Cole says with a smile as he holds the bite of plum up to Solas’ mouth. “Hearing me say things like that. You aren’t sure if you _should_ like it but you _do_.”

“I do,” Solas agrees, voice soft, and Cole takes the opportunity to slide the plum between his lips. Solas’ mouth is warm around his fingers, a nice contrast to the cool of the fruit. Cole bites his lip as Solas works his tongue around knuckles, sucking lightly and then not so lightly, cheeks hollowing, eyes dark as they look up at the spirit. He can’t talk, ostensibly because his mouth is full (and Solas may be many things but _rude_ is not often among them) but Cole _knows_ this is the same shape of lust and satisfaction that Solas had felt when having his own fingers sucked in turn.

“I like this,” Cole whispers, watching fascinated as Solas’ mouth works up to the base of his palm before sliding back to brush the barest kiss against his fingertip. And back, and again, and again. “I… want this. You. To feed you, help you. Make you come, if you want.”

Cole’s never heard the sound that comes out of Solas right now. Desperation, needy, but Cole is _helping_ and giving Solas what he needs, only it’s just making it worse. Or better, or both. He rocks back against Solas’ cock and reaches for another slice of plum, looking down as Solas catches his wrist and murmurs, “Your mouth, this time.”

Cole slides the plum into his own mouth, letting the taste push away everything else for a moment before he leans down and shares his gift with Solas. They’re moaning in tandem now, Cole’s cock giving another throb as he feels Solas lick his way in and take the fruit for his own. It’s better, so much better than the taste of things before, and he decides that plums aren’t so bad, and maybe he shouldn’t set _all_ of them out for the spiders.

One of the many, many advantages to being Cole is knowing what his partner needs without having to hear them say it. The next time he reaches toward the nightstand, he picks up the small vial instead and oils fingers already sticky with juice. Solas all but whines when Cole shifts away from his body to curl up around the elf's side and wrap a hand around his shaft. Solas grips Cole by the hair, fingers catching on tangles and tugging perhaps harder than he meant to. Cole doesn’t mind. The pain only means that Solas is enjoying himself and that Cole’s doing a good job despite his lack of… finesse when it comes to this particular act.

“I’ll need to practice, so I can get better,” Cole says thoughtfully, almost to himself. The oil makes everything equally slippery and warm but Cole can still appreciate the way different skin feels under his hand: the swell of the head in his palm, or the veins of the shaft pulsing gently under his touch, or the soft brush of curls at the base of Solas’ cock that lightly tickle Cole’s knuckles.

Solas’ voice is amused and strained as he pushes into Cole’s grip. “You’re certainly not - _ahh_ yes, right there - you’re not _disappointing_ by any means.”

Cole redoubles his efforts where Solas indicated, thumb and forefinger linked just under the flare of the head. Solas’ musk smells different from Cole’s own whether through age or species or simply because people don’t share the same scent. It’s richer, earthier, incredibly present and grounding. Cole has an image of pressing his nose against those dark curls and getting a better sniff, then of going to touch himself to compare notes. Solas would like that, he thinks, to see Cole’s face down there, to see Cole stroke himself out of curiosity.

Solas cries out, arching up, and Cole’s hand moves faster. The swell of pleasure in the other man might as well be his own, seeping under his skin and thrumming in his marrow until Cole’s own voice echoes with desperation. The boy’s cheeks are flushed again and the calm from before has all but evaporated. He doesn’t even notice that Solas’ hand had wrapped around his half-erect cock, or that he’d started grinding in rhythm to the press of Solas’ hips. When Solas comes, the force of the orgasm rocks through them both. Cole is the one to be made sticky this time as semen splatters onto his hand and up his forearm. He makes soft, wordless sounds as Solas goes still and sinks heavily into the bed, eyes fluttering closed.

Cole’s semi-hard cock is still in Solas’ loose grip and he thinks he likes it there. It’s comforting in a way he’s not sure he can explain, but also doesn’t think he needs to. Solas would understand. Solas always understands.

Solas murmurs quietly in his mother tongue, the gist of it washing over Cole as surely as the orgasm had. Tired fingers wander through Cole’s hair, this time catching gently on the tangles. “Did we finish the plums?”

Cole looks up at the bedside table and nods before resting his head again on Solas’ chest. “Do you want to be alone, now?” He can feel that company may not be the best thing for Solas before too much longer. The elf is already itching for time and space to wash up and take a nap, or at least be quiet and alone to process it all. Solas has been alone for so long and in so many ways that another’s presence for too long after such a vulnerable moment as coming undone under their mouth and hand would simply be cruel. Cole doesn’t think to take it personally; he only thinks to ask the question before Solas gets around to it himself.

But Solas shakes his head and murmurs, “Eventually. Though I’d like you to rest here for a few moments.”

Cole looks up at Solas with a shy smile. “I’d like that, too.”

The spirit curls in closer nestles against Solas’ bare chest, listening to the wild bray of his heart.


End file.
